The Goose Squadron Tales
by Moonbeam141
Summary: Dot is a partly domesticated greylag goose. When she meets Greylag, a wild greylag goose, she starts to teach him a goose version of military. Then they have goslings, a mysterious cat wants to put up gosling as a second favorite food to duckling, and the geese find that there is a duckling that needs their help to find his farm and mother…what will happen? More summary in profile!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hello! This is my second story with more then one chapter. I better explain why you're reading this story (you can just start reading, if you want).**

**The reason is pretty simple. The play for my school this year was ****_Honk! Jr_****, and I was in it. It was really fun, so of course when it ended, we all started crying. Well, some people. I was part of the Goose Squadron in the play (we're the ones that try help the ugly ducking try to find his mom) and I started to wonder how the squadron was formed. How did Dot and Greylag meet? How did their goslings become so random? Did the geese ever had an experience with the cat? This story is my answer to those questions. If you've ever watched Honk, then you'll probably know what is going on. If you haven't…please look Honk up! It'll help you with understanding the story a little better.**

**Honk belongs to George Stiles and Anthony Drewe**

**A note to all my fellow Warriors fans: **

**There's a cat in here, but this is a cat that, if he got the chance, would eat baby birds. I know, I know, Clan cats eat birds (and other prey) all the time, but think of him as…I don't know, a prey-based Darkstripe?**

**Oh, and here's a poem to start the chapter off. Enjoy reading!**

* * *

_It hardly mattered what time of year  
We passed their farmhouse,  
They never waved,  
This old farm couple  
Usually bent over in the vegetable garden  
Or walking by the muddy dooryard  
Between house and red-weathered barn.  
They would look up, see who was passing,  
Then look back down, ignorant to the event._

_-From _No Tool Or Rope Or Pail, _By Bob Arnold_

* * *

Chapter 1

It all started when a retired military officer decided to get a goose for a pet.

In the 20th century, that wasn't _too_ unusual. Geese were good for keeping watch, even better than, some people said, then watchdogs.

The former military officer lived on a small farm with his wife. The farm had a few crops – things like corn, wheat, and hay – and a large garden. There were about two dozen chickens, and one rooster, that lived in a chicken coop, which was in the fenced-in area in the front yard. In the back yard, there were the crops to one side, and to the other, a muddy, marshy place filled with rocks and reeds and one or two small islands. The marshy place was populated by a few mute swans, which lived there all year.

There was also Dot, a gray goose who was the reason for the old military officer's decision. Up until this point, Dot had been a good "watchdog" type of goose. Now, she seemed mopey and sad, which would have been unacceptable on any other farm. But Dot was the wife's special pet, and the wife could tell when her goose was acting out or sick, and this time, Dot seemed to be sick.

The military officer, after deciding that any vets in the nearby town would only have small white pills that half the time wouldn't even be eaten by Dot, thought the best option was to get a male goose, a gander, to keep Dot company. Maybe that would cheer her up.

The couple, after telling a few friends about their plan – which was a necessary detail in _any_ plan – found out that they could get a goose from a large, famous flock from another country. The officer and his wife went to their bank and found that they had enough money, thanks to interests. They filled out a few forms, sent the money off, and settled down to wait, for their gander to arrive.

The day the gander did arrive, in a large wooden crate, the retired officer's wife was just finishing a meeting for the reconstruction of something-or-other. When she saw the crate, with a loud honking coming from it, she knew it was their gander. After a phone call, the military officer came from the hardware store, in his old green truck, picked up both his wife and the gander-filled crate, and they headed home.

On the way home, the wife brought up the question of naming the new goose. "We have to call him something," she pointed out. "We do have names for a few of the chickens, and Dot, who is the reason we got the gander in the first place. He needs a name," she proclaimed as the green truck rumbled by a neighbor's mailbox. The former officer nodded, keeping his eyes on the dusty road ahead. "I know, dear. I think the best thing is to see what he does when we get home," he told his wife.

When they got home, and the truck stopped, the wife let Dot out from behind the fence, while her husband rummaged in his toolbox for a plier. Dot, however, winged her way up to the crate, and pecked one of the air holes in the top. A loud honking started coming from inside, and Dot leaned forward, trying to look in the holes. She thought she could see _something_ in there…an eye? A flash of feathers?

"Dot!" the wife scolded. "Get down from there. We'll have him out in a moment."

Dot reluctantly hopped down from the truck bed, and stood next to the officer's wife, while the officer started working on cutting a large enough hole in the side of the crate. The crate itself was about five feet high and two feet wide, giving the gander enough room to step from side to side a bit, but not much else.

Finally, with a loud _clang _from the tool, a creaking of boards, and a whirl of feathers, the gander arrived in his new home. He stared around at the chickens, the sky, the two humans, Dot.

The gander flapped down the ground and over to Dot. His feathers were a grayish-brown, with black flight feathers, and an orange beak and feet, same as Dot, only he was an inch or two taller. "Hello," the gander honked.

"Hello," she honked back.

"Where am I?" the gander asked her, glancing around again.

"You're in Britain, in the countryside," Dot told him.

"What's Britain like?" The gander asked, and then answered his question himself. "If it's all like this," he flapped his wingtips, indicating the farmland, "then I think I'll like it."

"I think about half of it is like this," Dot honked thoughtfully. "I've never been outside the farm, but my parents have. They traveled around a lot before coming here," she added quickly. The gander was looking a bit less off balance now, Dot saw, so she kept talking.

"The human that opened your crate, he was in the military. He traveled around a lot, with my parents."

"What's the military?"

"It's something humans started. They use it as a way to defend their countries."

"They _do_?" The gander sounded a little puzzled, but not totally disbelieving. "Oh, like water fights!" he honked, and Dot could tell he seemed to understand now. "My siblings and I used to do that all the time, when we were goslings, before…" he blinked rapidly.

"Yeah," Dot honked quietly. "My siblings and I used to do that, too."

Meanwhile, the officer and his wife were making plans for a goose coop. The chicken coop housed a couple dozen chickens, with more on the way now that the seasons were becoming warmer. It could house one goose, Dot had proved that, but two? That was out of the question.

The retired officer decided that with some scrap wood, and the gander's crate, he could make a goose coop that would be big enough for two geese. But his wife came up with the problem they had discovered in the truck: the gander's name.

"We need to find a good name for him," the wife sighed as she stared at the sky, as if it might give her an answer.

"Look at this!" her husband said as he pointed to a small piece of a paper, a tag that had been attached to the crate. It read:

GREYLAG, GANDER

2 FEET, 7 INCHES

2 YEARS AND 3 MONTHS

HANDLE WITH CARE

"I was thinking we could call the gander Greylag," the officer commented as his wife re-read the tag. "I mean, look at him." He pointed to their new goose, which was busy following Dot around. The geese had finished talking together a while ago, and Dot had decided to show her new friend his new home.

The military officer was right about the gander, even though he didn't know much about geese species. Greylag was a good name for him.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hello!** **Wait a moment… Fireleaf, get up here!**

***Fireleaf, my trusty Warriors cat OC, appears***

**Fireleaf: What's up? **

**Me: WE GOT A REVEIW! *does a victory dance* I thought it would take weeks, this story is so out of the way! Thank you Guest, for cheering me up, and reminding me that this is the first Honk story! Congrats on being Penny!**

**Fireleaf:**** *suddenly montone voice* Moonbeam141 does not own Honk, Greylag, or Dot. She does, however, own the military officer and his wife, the crow that comes up in this chapter, and Leslie the Extremely Boring White Chicken!**

**Leslie: HEY!**

**Dot: That cat is right, admit it.**

**Leslie: *starts singing her own version to the tune of "Look At Him," song from Honk***

**Dot: *stats singing comebacks***

**Me: Oh no… Run! Save yourself! Read the story! If by any chance your brain hasn't exploded from this author's note, you can ask in a ****review if you want to read the parodied version of the song I made up put on here...  
**

* * *

so much depends

upon

a red wheel

barrow

glazed with rain

water

beside the white

chickens.  
-Williams Carrlos Williams, The Red Wheelbarrow

**As for this poem… see below.**

* * *

Chapter 2

It had been still chilly, almost spring when Greylag had arrived, and now it was hotter, not yet summer, but close. Suddenly, all the young animals that had been born in springtime decided that now, they had to learn how to live. The retired officer and his wife often saw half grown birds flitting here and there in tree branches over the weeks, and one time, a young deer, which stared, amazed, at the two humans, before running away.

As for the two geese, Dot was teaching Greylag all about military maneuvers. Dot's parents, who had been the mascots of the former officer's group, had picked up almost all of what military people did. They had taught it to Dot, who was now teaching it to Greylag. Greylag, who at first had homesickness, now wanted to learn everything he could about military things. He didn't think it was strange at all.

"After you feel like you've eaten enough, and you preened yourself, there isn't much more to do," he told Dot one day, "So I want to thank you for doing this."

Dot fixed one of her feathers with her beak and said that it wasn't any trouble at all, and she enjoyed it too.

Dot was different from other geese, Greylag thought. Even though she was a little younger than him, there was something about Dot – her sternness while teaching him military operations, yet her jokes while they waddled about the goose coop – that compelled Greylag to start to warm up to the other goose.

Speaking of the goose coop, it was four feet high, and five feet wide. The former military officer, along with some friends, had indeed built it out of scrap wood and the crate Greylag had come in. It was filled with hay, some dried grasses and feathers for the geese to make nests out of. The feathers were there because it was slowly becoming summer, and summer was goose molting season.

The chickens often asked the two geese why they were doing this "military project." Leslie, a large white chicken who laid eggs galore now that it was warm, was the one who asked the most.

"Why," she would squawk in her disapproving voice. "Would you act so military? We're not humans. We're birds, and birds _act like birds_." If Leslie had been able to sniff disapprovingly, she would have.

"We are birds," Dot would tell her after a moment or two of thought. "But we don't have to _act_ like birds all the time. If we all just ate, and preened ourselves, life would be boring. I've had a taste of something else besides all that, and–"

"Now you're acting all military," Leslie interrupted. "It's because of Greylag, isn't it? A gander comes, and you're off trying to get him to pay attention to you! Honestly, Dot," she clucked before the goose, who was silently fuming, could say no, it wasn't because of Greylag, "I know you are geese, and from what I can tell, you are off on a wild goose chase. Military things, honestly…" Leslie's last sentence was muttered as she waddled off.

Dot tried to ignore the chickens, and the little nagging voice that had appeared in her head, which sounded suspiciously like Leslie. Leslie was apparently trying to spread rumors in the henhouse of what happened to geese who didn't act like birds, some of which included DNA testing and/or rabies shots. As far as Dot could tell, none of the chickens were listening.

* * *

One day, about a week after the conversation with Leslie, Dot was telling Greylag about what had happened when the rooster had suddenly seen a herd of deer crash across the road leading to the farm.

"He just sort of flapped his wings, and then let out the loudest cockle-doodle-do I have ever heard," Dot told him, laughing a little. "He seemed terrified by the deer, and they didn't seem to like him either."

Greylag chortled, a goose-like form of laughter. "Did his eyes go all big?"

"Yes, they did."

"Dot," Greylag stopped chortling. "Could I ask you something?"

"Sure," Dot honked, part of her preparing to do another training exercise, yet her heart started to pound a little faster than usual. _Curse that Leslie_, part of her thought. _She's making me think that he likes me more than a friend._

Greylag paused, partly to savor the moment, and partly to make sure his little speech was in order. "As co-captain of this squadron, a position you appointed me to recently, I would like you to be my second in command."

Dot's beak dropped open, secretly pleased at his choice of words, yet still amazed all together. "Your mate?"

"Yes," Greylag honked, sounding hopeful. "That's what I mean."

"Then I would be glad to accept," Dot told him. "Thank you, Greylag."

The military officer and his wife, along with seeing sparrows and deer that summer, also saw their two geese honk at each other, rub their necks together, then fly on top of the goose coop to make plans for the future.

* * *

One day, Dot felt almost ready to lay an egg. She wanted to get immediately to the marshy place – where there were delicious water plants and sturdy reeds to build nests – but she had to satisfy herself with honking at the gate, with Greylag, until the officer's wife opened the entrance in the fence for them. The two geese were now free to explore the farm.

Dot and Greylag headed to the little marsh, skirting the cornfield and going around a large rock to get to it. As they neared the boggy marshland, Greylag offered to scout ahead for anything, nesting places or other animals. Dot let him, having no doubt that she would know a good nesting place when she saw one.

A loud honk from Greylag a few minutes later quickened her pace, for Dot had been nibbling at some grasses here, a clump of pondweed there. Suddenly feeling anxious to see what her mate had found, Dot wove though some reeds, and saw a small pond, with some rocks sticking up here and there, and a little island about the size of a large table. It looked like a good place for raising goslings, Dot had to admit, and it was.

"This looks good," Dot honked. "All we need is a nest."

"A nest?" Greylag's honk rose a little with excitement. "So we are going to have goslings?"

"Yes, we are," Dot told him happily. "I'm going to try to find a good spot to build the nest."

"I'll go get some reeds," Greylag offered. "There's no hay here, and reeds are as good as anything."

Greylag waddled off to a nearby clump of reeds, while Dot examined the island. There was a small bush on it that she hadn't noticed before. It was just big enough for her to get in, and there was enough room for Dot to walk a few steps from front to back. Light filtered in though the leaves, and it seemed like it would give nice shelter until the goslings were old enough to sleep outside. Dot, finished with her inspection, turned around to go outside, when–

"Caw! Caw! Caw!"

_What in the world?_

Dot darted out of the bush, as fast as she could, to see Greylag staring up at the sky, reeds still in his beak. She followed his gaze, and saw a crow, cawing loudly. The crow dived straight at the two geese, then went into a U-turn and settled on top of a boulder nearby.

"What was that, private?" Greylag honked angrily, dropping his reeds, before Dot could chime in her two cents as well. "Were you trying to kill us?"

"I didn't mean to, sir, uh, didn't want to–" the crow stammered, suddenly realizing that the two geese were each twice bigger than him, and gave a sloppy salute.

"Didn't want to do what?" Dot honked at him. "On whose orders did you attack?"

"Uh – orders?" The crow blinked.

Greylag sighed though clenched beak. "Who told you to dive at us like that?"

The crow muttered something that sounded like "…he told me not to…"

"Who told you not to do what?" Dot asked him, wondering if the crow had said _he_ or _she._

"Dive down at geese and ducks," the crow clarified. "My mother." The black-feathered bird glanced at a far-away oak, as if wondering if his mother was going to come out that very moment. Greylag thought, for a moment, something moved among the branches, shaking them. But it didn't look like a crow. It looked like…

"I'm sorry," the crow cawed, unconsciously interrupting Greylag's train of thought. "Do you – do you want me to do anything for you?" He blinked, nervously, at the two geese.

"No," Greylag told him. "Just leave. We don't need nosy crows poking about our place!"

The crow flew off to the oak, cawing loudly.

"Do you think he was telling the truth?" Greylag asked Dot as they snapped off reeds with their beaks.

"Who knows?" Dot wondered, thoughtfully breaking a reed off. "Crows aren't known for being completely honest."

* * *

By sunset, the nest was finished, built out of reeds that Dot had woven into a bowl shape around herself, mixed with dried grasses and a few twigs. It was large enough for her, and some goslings. How many there would be, Dot wasn't sure, but she thought perhaps six.

The retired officer knew about the nest. He had heard Greylag and Dot honking at the crow from the chicken coop, and by the time he got there, the nest was half-done.

"Hello, Dot and Greylag," the old man said. "Going to have goslings, aren't you?"

Dot honked loudly in answer. The former officer chuckled.

"Promise me something, alright?" He leaned down a bit to see the geese better. "I know geese like to migrate, but when the goslings are old enough, could you bring them back to the farm for a few days, for a visit?"

Dot and Greylag glanced at each other. The former military officer waited as the two geese exchanged little honks and gurgles.

Finally, Dot pumped her head up and down, and let out a loud honk. She agreed.

The old man smiled to himself as he walked back home.


	3. Chapter 3: Part One

**A/N: I'm not very sure what to say…don't throw any rotten tomatoes?**

**Anywho, I've come back with an update. I've had a hard time deciding whether or not to have this chapter and new chapter be together. I'm deciding to separate it into two parts, and if you don't like it, or I decide to change them into separate chapters - don't worry. There won't be any changing of the content if I decide on separate chapters.**

**Now, to reviews. You can skip this part if you want, because it's going to be long.**

**Laserbeam13: Yup, Barnacles appears in this chapter, and next…and pretty much every chapter after that, along with everyone else…yes, I made characters for all eight of us. The goslings going to be fluffy at first, and I mean like ****cotton ball fluffiness. Thanks for the compliment!**

**TheSameGuest/ArtemisCarolineSnow: Yay! You got an account. Even though I already welcomed you to Fanfiction, there s no reason to not do so here. CLAP EVERYONE, FOR A NEW MEMBER! And yes, we do need more Honk stories. There's already one up, in fact, by dreylag69. Check it out if you want.**

**GuestAgain: I don't know what those are…places in Britain? If you're wondering where the geese are…In a more rural, nature-filled place than London. **

**SmarterThanArty: Sorry, bud, this is one of those serious stories. :( But there's a scene next chapter including tea. You might find that funny.**

** -Guest: Good. You repaired your brain because I _really_ don't want to get sued…did you say Trollstar or Trollestia, by the way? **

**Honker4lyfe: GASP! Thank you so much! I did check out dreylag69's fanfiction. You're right; it is pretty good!**

**Now the part of the poem, and you can start reading!**

* * *

I'm scrambling an egg for my daughter.

"Why are you always whistling?" she asks.

"Because I'm happy."

And it's true,

Though it stuns me to say it aloud;

There was a time when I wouldn't

Have seen it as my future.

-_From _Egg, _by C. G. Hanzlicek_

* * *

Chapter Three

_Part One_

Dot had been right in wanting to get to the marsh quickly, because a few days after the two geese got into a routine of swimming about a little, eating delicious pondweed, and simply feeling free, she laid the first egg.

It happened, it fact, on the fourth day they had been there – enough time for Dot to add to finishing touches to her nest and eat more than usual, as when she would be laying on the eggs, she would not have a lot of time for eating. It was enough time for Greylag to make the acquaintance of some other birds – mostly mute swans –and to scout out the surrounding area a little. The egg laying happened quietly. When an animal gives birth, there is usually a lot of pain involved, but not birds. Birds just lay eggs, and wait for them to hatch, keeping them warm and safe, and Dot was no exception.

When Dot realized that there was an egg in her nest, she was suddenly filled up with a five second burst of horror.

_What have I _done?

It was more of an initial shock that they were, in fact, going to have goslings. It wasn't a daydream any more. It wasn't false at all. It was true.

The shock, horror, whatever Dot felt, was replaced with a burst of happiness. This egg – this creamy white egg in the middle of her nest – was what she had been waiting all her life for. She hadn't known it before, because she never knew what being a mother was like…but now Dot knew that soon, she might just be a mother. And that felt good.

When she told Greylag, that yes, there was an egg, he felt a rush of pride that came after a stunned silence, and like Dot, he felt the pieces of his life click together a little more. Both gray-feathered geese went to sleep happy that night.

Two more days passed, and Dot laid another egg. She tried to lay an egg every day. She succeeded only twice, but the rest of the time, two days passed. She supposed it was her body recovering from laying an egg and whatnot, but still, she was relived when ten days passed, and six eggs were in the nest, being kept warm by her feathers. Occasionally, Dot could see Greylag though the flickering spaces between the leaves in the bush. He was either talking to some of the other birds that lived on the marsh, or swimming back and forth, or preening.

Dot, far from relishing the chances she got to see outside, was lapsing into periods of boredom. She wished that one of the former mother birds that lived all the time on the marsh would visit her, and give her some advice, even though Dot knew that mothering was instinctual.

One day, her wish was granted.

Snowy, a mute swan came to visit. She had heard about Dot and Greylag – any newcomers to the marsh were known by all before a day was out – and the swan wanted to introduce herself. She also wanted to look over Dot's eggs, as she explained to a slightly baffled, but nerveless relived that someone had come, Dot.

The soon-to-be mother goose tucked some loose down around her eggs, and shuffled off for a moment to let the mute swan take a look. Snowy looked over the eggs carefully, noticing that two of the eggs were another white then the rest. It wasn't that noticeable, except to an experienced mother. And Snowy was exactly that.

After Dot had settled back down on her eggs, Snowy began her little speech.

"Dot, your eggs are really something."

"Thank you," Dot honked, pleased with the other bird's complement.

"Of course, I do prefer grayish eggs myself, but white eggs are nice as well. I've heard that some chickens can lay eggs besides white. You know, real green, blue, and light brown eggs, and not those fake eggs that get passed around in springtime. All those different colors, Dot! Maybe those humans do have some sense in making those fake colorful eggs."

"Maybe." Dot liked Snowy, she had to admit. The mute swan was old, about ten years in human time, and she seemed wise in Dot's eyes, although most of the time she talked about goslings, and cygnets, and eggs. It was almost laughable, but Snowy did grow serious one time.

"Dot, my mate and I saw this cat – I think a female – a few times. She's all black, with green eyes. Sneaky, too."

"A cat!" Dot exclaimed. "Has she spoken to you?"

"No," Snowy snorted indigently. "We've only seen her. I think she lives on a nearby farm, or maybe is migrating, and decided to come here to see if she could get some cygnets."

"Get some…that's terrible!"

"It's what cats do," Snowy shrugged. "I've met only on cat that seemed good –a brown tabby. A little standoffish and aloof, but at least she had no interest in eating swans."

"Mm," Dot murmured, wondering if _any_ cats were good. It didn't seem likely.

Snowy glanced out the bush entrance. "Oh my! Look at the time!" Dot craned her neck to see that the sun was past noon.

"Now, if I were you–" Snowy started as she waddled out from the bush, but was cut off by Dot

"Don't worry," the gray goose told her. "I'll tell Greylag – my mate. He'll keep a lookout."

"Alright," Snowy honked, getting ready to take off. "And Dot, your goslings – love them. They will be the pride of your heart and the joy of your life."

"Thank you!" Dot called from her nest as Snowy soared up to the sky. "Thank you!"

Later, Dot would wonder why Snowy had given her that last piece of advice. It seemed rather old-fashioned, and besides, wasn't it a given that she would love her goslings? Wasn't it?

But for now, she accepted it.

* * *

"A _cat_?" Greylag frowned. They had finished their dinner of pondweed roots and grasses, and Dot had, after some hesitation, told Greylag about Snowy. "Are you sure that swan was telling the truth?"

"Yes," Dot honked, "She seemed to really believe it – I don't think it was just bad eyesight. Anyway, Snowy said her and her mate. Two birds have a better chance of seeing a cat than one."

"Oh, well," Greylag sighed, giving in for the time being, putting the possible mistaking of a cat in the back of his brain for the time being, "Dot, do you ever get tired of sitting on the eggs? Not that I hope you do," he added hastily. "I just wanted to know how you were getting on."

"I don't get tired of sitting on them very often," Dot told him thoughtfully, "It doesn't bother me as much, not being able to move about more. I thought as more time passed, it would get so I couldn't stand it, but that's the opposite of what is happening. I think it has something to with the eggs getting nearer to hatching."

Eggs could change, both geese knew that. They could seem as breakable to china plates to humans, yet there wasn't any denying that they change from hard shell and soft yolk to a living, breathing creature. China plates, however beautiful, couldn't do that.

"I'll keep first watch," Greylag offered, relieved that Dot and the eggs were all right, but wanting to get on with his nighttime duty.

"Not right now," Dot shook her head. "Dear, you need to sleep. I haven't had as much to do today, except sit, and you've been flying around the marsh."

Greylag agreed, and drifted off to sleep on the pond, leaving Dot to watch, keep her eggs warm, and think.

* * *

As the days, then weeks, passed, Dot stayed on her eggs all the time. She still felt a bit bored now and then, but a stronger urge kept her busy; one to keep her eggs safe.

One afternoon, Dot found that one egg had a crack in the shell. It was only just visible, but some motherly instinct could tell her that the egg was hatching.

Feeling that there wasn't a reason to wait in idle boredom for the egg to hatch, she settled into a more comfortable position so the hatching egg wouldn't be crushed, and slipped into a doze.

She found herself in the sky – the sun warm on her feathers, air currents flowing around her. The soon-to-be mother goose found an updraft, and took it. For a while, she flew around in the sky, completely happy to be able to stretch her wings, if only in a dream.

Of course, that peacefulness couldn't last.

Dot noticed a storm cloud nearby. She swerved to avoid it, hoping that she could avoid this cloud and get on with flying, but found herself stuck in the middle of the cloud. Literally stuck, because Dot found that she couldn't move.

Twisting and turning in desperation, she told herself it was only a dream – even though it was on its way to becoming a nightmare – and that she would wake up soon. She had to.

By some miraculous luck, Dot found that she could move her head, even though the rest of her body was paralyzed. It wasn't the best luck, she realized, as she turned her head downward to see two green orbs. They stared up at her, unblinking, never moving.

That was when she woke up.

Panting with relief, Dot suddenly felt a flash of terror, and a jumbled mess of thoughts rustled through her head like fallen leaves. _Those green orbs…eyes…_cat_ eyes…her eggs…were they safe…Greylag…Greylag_!

"Greylag!" she honked as loudly as she dared. "Greylag!"

* * *

Meanwhile, Greylag was enjoying some nice grass nearby, when he heard Dot calling his name. Almost reflexively, he scanned the reeds surrounding him for the cat, or any other predators.

Nothing.

Taking off, Greylag swore he saw a flash of fur…no, a green eye winking at him. It was nothing, he assured himself. But he still flew faster.

Why was Dot calling to him? She knew that he would come back to the nesting site, usually after darkness fell. But it wasn't dark yet, Greylag thought, taking an updraft, as anything that would make him go faster was welcome. The sun wasn't even setting. It was still high in the sky.

As he landed in the pond next to the nesting site, Greylag was aware of a sudden silence. No insects were chirping, there were no frogs…and Dot wasn't calling to him.

Paddling over to the small island, Greylag quietly called out, "Dot? Are you alright?"

Dot poked her head out of the bush. "Greylag!" she gasped, "You're okay!"

"Of course I'm okay," Greylag honked, feeling confused. Dot seemed worried, and now she was looking at him with a mixture of relief and anxiety. "Why were you calling me? Did you see the cat?" he asked.

"I'm not sure," Dot honked slowly, thoughtfully. "I had this dream," she started to explain, as Greylag came closer, "I was flying, and it just felt so good, like flying after a molting time."

Greylag nodded. He could understand that, because flying after regaining your feathers did feel great, like being able to breathe again. But why had Dot been so afraid, of a dream of all things? The aviator goose captain didn't know what to do with dreams. They were pleasing, sometimes, but they didn't do anything to you. Unless…

"And then, this storm whirled up," Dot continued, "I tried to fly away, but then I got lost in it, and Greylag…" she shivered, making sure the eggs weren't being crushed at the same time. "I saw the cat."

"What?" Greylag honked, shocked, looking around at the reeds as if the cat might be hiding there. "You saw the cat? Where was she?"

"She was just staring at me," Dot shuddered, "In my dream. And then I woke up."

"And that's when you started calling me," Greylag clarified, feeling the shock start to ebb away, replaced by understanding. "Is that it?"

Dot nodded, "Yes, I just felt so terrified, I didn't know, really, what else to do."

"It was a dream, Dot," Greylag tried to make her think logically, "Just a dream. There wasn't any cat."

"Yes," Dot sighed. "I know. Anyway," she honked, forcing herself to sound more cheerful, "Do you want to check on the eggs?"

Greylag blinked at the sudden change in conversation, but then made a quick decision: anything that got Dot's thoughts away from her nightmare was good.

Dot stiffened as she felt something move under her. Was it a bug? No, it couldn't be a bug; the movement was too big for that…

Something gave out a muffled peep.

What if it is what I hope it is? Dot thought, plunged into a whirlwind of sudden mothering as Greylag looked on in confusion, not having heard the peep.

Finally, Greylag honked out a question. "Dot…what's happening?"

"The eggs," was the only thing Dot could think of to say. "I think they're hatching. Or at least one of them…"

Sure enough, there was a slightly damp wriggle under Dot, a small rustling in her chest feathers, and then…

A newly hatched gosling poked its head out of its mother's soft gray chest feathers, and let out an astounded peep at the world.

Geese, and most birds, don't have a great sense of smell, but if the two new parents had excellent smelling senses, they would have smelled the damp, new, slightly dusty smell of the newly hatched gosling.

The gosling looked up at Dot, and let out a wondering peep. Dot gave it a small nod, feeling a small lump in her throat, and gave a sort of a crooning honk back. It was the same honk that she had made to the unhatched eggs, so they could get used to her voice, and she was using it now to let the baby gosling know that she was its mother.

She succeeded.

Greylag, for a moment lost for words, suddenly came up with a military phrase Dot had taught him. "I guess one of our eggs finally got inducted, huh?"

"Yes," Dot murmured affectionately as she gently prodded the gosling over with her beak, checking that it was okay, "Yes, I guess you could say that our gosling just got officially taken into the military, but it's a good military, right?" Dot glanced up from her prodding to stare at Greylag hard, with the mother of all worries in her eyes. "No one's going to get hurt in a training session, and we're all going to live through our missions, right?"

"Right," Greylag promised as he reached down to see his newly hatched gosling better, "That's absolutely right."


End file.
